


A Real Miracle

by Heart_lit



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Fluff, M/M, Protective Aziraphale (Good Omens), Wingfic, Wings, soft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-15
Updated: 2019-08-15
Packaged: 2020-09-01 04:20:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,135
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20252086
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Heart_lit/pseuds/Heart_lit
Summary: 1941. The Blitz church scene. A different take on what happens after Crowley tells Aziraphale “it would take a real miracle for my friend and I to survive it.”





	A Real Miracle

Aziraphale’s mind reels in shock as the woman turns to point the gun in his face. The nazi agents are speaking but he can’t make out the words, he can only concentrate on the frantic breaths wracking his corporation. _I’ve been set up!_ he thinks, desperately searching his memory for a red flag, anything that should have given away the true nature of his new acquaintance. _She recruited me! It was all a lie? Oh, the books! They’ll be lost forever! I’m going to die! How am I going to explain this to Upstairs?_

The angel struggles to focus. He feels perfectly wretched. _To be exposed for such a fool!_ The insufferable nazi man has been taunting Aziraphale as he packs away the angel's priceless books. The second man is speaking to him. “Now where were we? Oh, yes. Killing you.”

Aziraphale’s heart is racing faster than his panicked thoughts. “You can’t kill me!” he pleads. “There will be paperwork!” They are all startled when the church door is thrown open and a man enters wearing dark clothes and a dark hat, hissing as he takes his first steps into the sacred space. The angel’s heart leaps. _Crowley!_

The demon is hopping foot to foot as he spots Aziraphale and begins to make his way up the aisle to the front of the church. “Consecrated ground,” Crowley gasps out. “It’s like being on a beach in bare feet!”

Aziraphale can’t speak a word, his thoughts flying. _Crowley! What is he doing here? Could he be working with these people? Why would he ever enter a church? He could have been destroyed the moment he crossed the threshold! Surely a demon couldn’t withstand the holy energy of the place!_

“Mr. Anthony J. Crowley!” he is greeted by one of the men. “Your fame precedes you!” The nazi woman knows Crowley, too, apparently, as she addresses him by name as well. But then she says, “Such a pity you must both die.” _She’s going to shoot Crowley, too! So he is NOT working for them!_ Aziraphale feels a flood of relief that his friend, his dear friend, is too good to stoke these particular fires of hell. A glimmer of hope, of happiness begins to fill his heart.

_He is here for me. He came for me. To save me! Oh, how did he know I was in danger? How does he always know? Crowley always comes for me!_

Aziraphale’s thoughts are swirling and he is unable to follow the conversation that is happening between the humans and Crowley. Something about a bomb that Crowley says will be landing in this exact spot any moment now. The angel tries his best to snap out of his reverie as Crowley explains to the agents, “A last minute demonic intervention will throw the bombs off course. You’re all wasting your valuable running away time!”

Crowley turns to face Aziraphale, his eyebrows raised pointedly above his glasses, to say, “And if, in thirty seconds, a bomb does land here, it would take a REAL miracle for my friend and I to survive it.”

_A real miracle? Oh, a bomb will discorporate us both!_

Aziraphale can hear the distant wail of the bomb in question, the sound growing louder by the second. The humans are scrambling away and any moment now the bomb will hit. The noise of the incoming bomb grows loud enough to drown out all other sounds, and all other thoughts except for _Crowley!_

Crowley looks to Aziraphale. In a matter of seconds, Aziraphale’s wings spring forth into reality as he steps toward the demon. His hands reach out for Crowley’s, taking hold of them and pulling Crowley the last few steps toward the angel. Aziraphale’s wings spread up and over his body, surrounding Crowley, along with a wave of heavenly energy, into a cocoon of blindingly bright white feathers. As Crowley is pressed to Aziraphale’s breast, the angel’s arms find their way around Crowley’s shoulders, drawing the demon’s head to rest against the angel’s shoulder, under the shelter of Aziraphale’s heavenly wings. The ground shakes and the church crumbles into dust around them, the nazis buried under the rubble. The dust begins to settle.

Crowley pulls back slightly from Aziraphale’s embrace and raises his head, drawing his sunglasses down and away from his face as he looks up at the angel’s wings, awe in his golden eyes. As he tucks the glasses into his shirt pocket, Crowley slowly raises his other hand, reaches up and ever so gently, reverently touches just the tips of a few feathers directly over their heads. Aziraphale’s arms lower, his hands cascading down Crowley’s arms to take the demon’s hands back into his own. He draws them in to press against his chest, gripping them tightly. Crowley’s amber eyes lower to meet the angel’s sparkling blue ones, their faces mere inches apart.

“That was very kind of you,” the angel whispers to Crowley. Aziraphale rarely has a chance to see Crowley’s luminous eyes uncovered. “Sssshut up, angel,” the demon responds, softly, and Aziraphale can feel Crowley’s breath ghosting across his lips. “You saved me...” the angel breathes. Crowley quirks one side of his lips into a smirk, eyes flashing, but he doesn’t make a move to step away. A thought is nagging at the back of Aziraphale’s mind. “Oh the books!” he exclaims softly. His lip trembles and a tear escapes his eye, trailing down his cherubic cheek. _They’ll all have been blown to dust. Gone forever._

Crowley huffs softly and his smirk widens to a grin. “Oh, angel,” he says, gently. He brings one hand up to the angel’s face and carefully wipes the tear away with the edge of his thumb. Then, he takes a small step back, withdrawing his hand from Aziraphale’s and looking up. The angel’s wings are still surrounding them.

Aziraphale shivers a little and begins to withdraw his energy, tucking his wings back into the ethereal plane. Crowley leans down to tug a bag free from the rubble near their feet. _My books!_ He passes the handle toward Aziraphale and says, “A little demonic miracle of my own, angel.” Aziraphale’s jaw drops and then snaps shut again. He feels a little faint as he clutches the bag in toward his chest, the bag taking the place where Crowley had been moments before. Aziraphale is too astonished to speak. _He came for me..._

Crowley gives him a wink before placing his glasses back onto his face. “Lift home?” he says, holding out one hand toward the speechless angel. Aziraphale’s heart is beating so fast, he is certain he can’t remain standing much longer. _He came for me... he saved my books. He saved me..._

Aziraphale places his hand into Crowley’s and allows himself to be led away.

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first time writing fiction! I have never been inspired to write creatively before now. I have no idea what I’m doing! I had fun writing it, though. I hope someone will let me know if they liked it. 💕 I have only been a part of this fandom for about a month, and I have loved every minute. Find me on tumblr @heart-lit


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